


The Pirate and the Marine

by doctornemesis



Category: One Piece
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Friendship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Marine Ace, Oral Sex, Pirate Marco, Running Away, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Slavery, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornemesis/pseuds/doctornemesis
Summary: "The Phoenix swooped down and touched upon Ace’s life at the worst, and yet, most fortunate of times for them both. Marco the Phoenix, 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates had sacrificed himself and his freedom for those of his men so that they could make their escape under the cover of darkness back to their Captain upon the notorious Moby Dick. Marco and his men had given one hell of a fight that vengeful, lightning fueled night, leaving both sides equally damaged as far as the eye could see; an hours long battle that left no Marine ship unscathed, including the one Portgas D. Ace served aboard as a Warrant Officer in the Infantry and Sailor Division tasked with escorting Whitebeard's right hand man to Impel Down, lauding the pirate around as one of their best successes known to date."





	1. The Day our Paths Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> I planned for this to be something of a one-shot, but 20,000+ words later, I've decided to post it in installments alternating between Ace and Marco's view points. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it as I had quite a lot of fun writing it! Any and all mistakes are mine.

   The Phoenix swooped down and touched upon Ace’s life at the worst, and yet, most fortunate of times for them both. Marco the Phoenix, 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates had sacrificed himself and his freedom for those of his men so that they could make their escape under the cover of darkness back to their Captain upon the notorious Moby Dick. Marco and his men had given one hell of a fight that vengeful, lightning fueled night, leaving both sides equally damaged as far as the eye could see; an hours long battle that left no Marine ship unscathed, including the one Portgas D. Ace served aboard as a Warrant Officer in the Infantry and Sailor Division tasked with escorting Whitebeard's right hand man to Impel Down, lauding the pirate around as one of their best successes known to date.  

 

  None; however, could hope to bask in the success that was Gol D. Rogers’ untimely end at Loguetown almost two decades prior.

 

  Ace cringed at the thought, his jaw clenched as his hands balled into tight fists. Nobody wanted the Son of the Devil to live, not even the child (now man) himself, but Ace tried to ignore that as he studied the proud figure that stood before his eyes with much more interest than he probably should have given the circumstances. Sure, he’d heard of Marco, of the _Phoenix_ , but he’d never actually seen what the Mythical Zoan looked like up close and personal. Ace troubled his bottom lip in between his teeth, working up the nerve to do something not only daring in nature, but expressly forbidden for a man in his position. Before he could open his mouth; however, blue, almost sleepy-like eyes peered up at him with sudden interest.

 

  “You’ve got something on your face, yoi,” he said, nonchalant as ever as Ace’s face flushed more intensely than his own flames ever could as he scrubbed openly at his mouth. The soft chuckle Marco let loose brought even more shame upon the Logia user as he realized then that the pirate had only been making a joke at his expense. His blush deepened, and he could feel himself beginning to stutter without truly uttering a word before loud, heavy footfalls interrupted his plight.  

 

  Ace bit the inside of his cheek as two Petty Officers well documented and demoted for their abuse of power came marching down into the brig, elbowing each other back and forth as they laughed and snorted at their own private joke. Ace spared Marco a worried glance, but the pirate appeared rather unfazed. “Marco the Phoenix, eh?” Ruddy jeered, whistling at the blonde even though the sound came out distorted due to the rather prominent gap situated in between his two front teeth. “Or is it Marco the Faggot? I’ve heard it pronounced both ways ‘round these parts!”

 

  “ _Hey_!” Ace shouted, outraged by their behavior more so than not, but it was a line he absolutely refused to have crossed in his presence.

 

  “Ut-oh, Ruddy! Don’t upset little Ace here!” lauded Renee, an imposing figure of a man with a large frame and even larger muscles known to have a cruel-streak running through him. In a fit of rage, he shoved Ace back until the younger of the two collided with the seastone infused bars behind him. “He might run off and go tell his precious Gramps on us.”

 

  “Is this how you treat those with higher rankings than yourselves, yoi? I might not be well versed in your ways, but it’s easy to tell that you both are barely a step above chore boys,” Marco said, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest as he cocked his head to one side, looking thoroughly bored by the whole ordeal.

 

  “Like I’m gonna take that shit from a slave!” Renee exclaimed, lunging forward as Ace lit his entire body up into a wall of solid flames, infuriating the two inebriated men as they were both forced to take a giant leap back lest they get burned.

 

  “Former slave,” Marco corrected, and if he happened to be surprised by Ace’s Devil Fruit ability, he did a remarkable job at concealing it. “The last time I saw my “ _Master_ ,” I was too busy slitting his throat from ear-to-ear.”

 

  The glee in the blonde’s voice did not escape Ace’s notice, a shudder coursing down along his spine despite the immense heat he emitted. A weird sensation befell him then, and he decided that it was not fear but excitement that filled the otherwise empty pit of his stomach. Ace felt content knowing that a former slave had been able to exact their revenge on their tormentor. If anything, Ace often found himself wishing he could do the same. He tried to remind himself that Luffy’s freedom was all that mattered in the end.

 

  “Another murder to add to the list, eh?” Ruddy jeered, and Ace paid the jab back by setting the Marine’s hat and the crimson tuft of hair underneath it aflame.

 

  “I don’t want to see you two down here again,” he announced, putting on his best authoritative voice he could muster. “I will be watching over this prisoner from here on out. Go and help with the repairs.”

 

  “A faggot for a faggot, huh?” Renee spat, turning to take his leave after helping to put the other officer’s uniform out as Ace chased them up along the stairs with his flames, threatening to melt their shoes to the spot unless they hurried.

 

  Ace turned to face his prisoner, trying to reiterate that fact through his mind, over and over again, but the only thing that appeared to stand out to him was that blue might just be his favorite color. Luffy had asked him once, but Ace claimed not to know—not really. He had colors he didn’t mind as well as colors he outright detested, but nothing he felt a special affinity towards. Marco’s docile, almost sleepy-looking eyes were a deep blue, almost as deep as the ocean itself whenever their eyes met and held—lingered. Ace felt flustered whenever the other man’s gaze settled upon him, as though they could see right through him, pierce right through him to the center of his core.

 

  Reveal every hideous truth Ace had spent his entire life trying to keep buried.

 

  “Your men don’t appear to respect your authority very much, yoi,” he said, breaking the silence that had built up between them.

 

  “I don’t care about that, or them,” Ace said, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black cargo shorts, rocking back on the heels of his matching combat boots.

 

  “Is that so?” Marco inquired, and he appeared genuinely curious about Ace’s thoughts on the matter. “You’re quite young looking for a Marine, yoi. How old are you?”

 

  “How old do I look?” Ace shot back, taking a step back to put some distance between the two of them. The Warrant Officer knew that he tread on dangerous ground by providing this pirate, this _prisoner_ with any information about himself, though he almost couldn’t help it.

 

  Marco uncrossed his arms then as he sat up a little, his eyes sweeping over Ace’s general appearance again for what felt like the thousandth time. “With a face like that and those freckles? No older than eighteen,” he said, and Ace hated how close to the mark he happened to be.

 

  “I can’t help that I have freckles!” he exclaimed, shielding half of his face from Marco’s astute stare.

 

  The pirate gave another soft chuckle at that, and Ace hated how the sound alone was enough to make his insides feel as though they were melting and churning all at the same time. “Don’t take offense, yoi,” he said, but Ace refused to meet his gaze again. “I didn’t say they were a bad thing. Cute, actually. I’ve got a younger brother with them as well.”

 

  Ace perked up at that. “ _Brother_?” he asked before he could stop himself. Ace didn’t have much in this world, but he had been blessed with two precious brothers.

 

  “Yes,” Marco answered, moving to stand though it was clear that the seastone cuffs made the task a tedious feat to accomplish. “All those who sail with Pops are his family. We’re all his children, and so I have a lot of siblings.”

 

  “Pops…? That’s what you call Whitebeard?” Ace asked, a lone brow raised as they once again regarded each other, except this time neither one of them tried to downplay their curiosity with the other.

 

  “That word sounds foreign to you, Ace,” Marco said, taking one step closer toward the seastone infused bars that encased him. “You don’t have a father, yoi?”

 

  Ace flinched at that, but he didn’t back down nor did he turn away. Ace didn’t want to go back to his reality just yet, and Marco made for an excellent distraction, even if but for a fleeting moment in time. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt as close to salvation as he’d ever had in his life.

 

  The closest to a confession he’d ever mustered before.

 

  “No, I don’t,” he said after a brief pause, attempting to keep the bitterness from seeping through.

 

  “Mmm,” Marco hummed, deep in his own turbulent thoughts as Ace tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear. “A mother, then?”

 

  Ace shook his head in an almost violent manner, his eyes welling up with tears as his bottom lip trembled. His mother’s astounding sacrifice for a son that should not have been brought into this world cut deep, deeper than any other pain he’d ever experienced before in his life. He remembered the day Garp told him the truth of his conception, concealment and birth as though it were just yesterday. Ace cried himself to sleep for a month straight after that, only able to find comfort and solace in the warm embraces of his two most beloved brothers. After Sabo’s untimely death, the nightmares about his sheer existence resumed tenfold.

 

  “Sh-she died during childbirth,” he said, afraid to meet the Phoenix’s gaze once more.

 

  “I’m sorry, yoi.”

 

  Ace shook his head again, feeling a surge of anger blossoming forth from his open chest like a freshly bleeding wound. “Don’t be,” he said, his fists clenching and unclenching as his knuckles blanched white in color. “I’m the one who killed her.”

 

  “Don’t say that, yoi,” Marco said, and Ace noticed that an undercurrent of emotion cut between each and every word he spoke. “Your mother made the ultimate sacrifice so that you might live on. No one asks to be born, yoi, but your mother believed in you, in the man that you’d one day become enough to want you here.”

 

  Ace felt an inkling of white hot fear shoot through him as he broke out into a cold sweat. He didn’t want to hear anymore, afraid that he might reveal more about himself than he already had. It felt like Marco had stripped a layer of skin clean from him, and Ace didn’t like it—not one bit.   

 

  “I’ve got to...to go,” he said, looking anywhere but at the man he’d wanted to talk to of his own accord, but before he left he remembered what his original plan had been all along. He removed   four rolls of bread from each of his pants pockets, passing them through the open tray slot. “I, uh, eat quite a lot, but I had some leftovers. I’ve got to meet with my superiors, but I can personally vouch for Deuce who’ll be taking over for me. He won’t mistreat you or starve you or anything…”

 

  Marco took the food for the offering that it was, tearing into one of them without a second thought, much to Ace’s pleasure, even if his stomach remained a little envious. Catching himself, Ace turned to take his leave, content that the prisoner he found himself tasked with would not starve under his watch. It was the least he could do, right?

 

  “Ace?”

 

  The Warrant Officer froze in his tracks, his feet turning to led as he shifted to look at the other man once again.

 

  “That’s your name, right? Ace?”

 

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes...it is.”

 

  A smirk hinged on the corner of one of Marco’s mouth, and with such full lips, Ace couldn’t help but to be drawn in by it. “It’s a nice name, yoi. Familiar,” he said, his eyes studying Ace’s face once again now that the two were just a short distance apart.

 

  “...Familiar? You’ve met other people named Ace before?”

 

  Marco shook his head. “No.” he answered, the same amused expression hinged upon the right side of his face. “A long time ago, I knew someone who adored that name a lot.”

 

   “Oh….”

 

  “She had freckles, too.”

 

   _Oh_.

 

  Ace ran away after that, and he swore that, even under threat of torture, he would not go back down to the brig to face that man. The Logia user never wanted to see Marco’s omnipotent face, nor hear his cryptic words ever again. Deuce, Saber, Pinnacle and Ducky were all capable men who could watch after the Phoenix until the ship could be repaired and the pirate escorted to Impel Down, but his Superior’s had other plans in mind for him.

 

  Other, horrible plans….

 

  “Look, Ace, as much as I would like to reassign you—I can’t, and I won’t. Marco the Phoenix is a worthy adversary with a powerful skill set not limited to simply being a Mythical Zoan. If, for some reason, he were to escape, your Logia ability is the only thing standing in the way until we can get him near Impel Down for the designated exchange,” Sage, his long haired, and often long-winded Captain said, rapping her long, emerald-gleaming nails across the table top of her mahogany desk.

 

  Ace balked at that. “My flames can’t do anything to stop him, though! He’s obviously stronger and more experienced than me, and-and he can fly! I can’t...there’s no way—”

 

  “Ace, all you have to do is babysit him for a day, two at most. You’ve taken on much more life threatening missions of your own free will. Just do as I say. Besides, he hasn’t been nearly as pleasant with the other’s than he reportedly has been with you. Use it to your advantage while you can. We took some heavy damage, and while we’ll be able to make it to landfall within the appropriate time frame, it’ll be just barely,” she said, rubbing her temples as she stared straight ahead at the mountain of paperwork she needed to fill out.  

 

  Ace didn’t know how to explain to his superior that he was the one being taken advantage of. That, and he couldn't risk a report getting back to his grandfather about something like this. Luffy’s future, his brother’s absolute _freedom_ depended upon how well Ace did here, and no matter how much he despised it, he would see it through to the end.

 

* * *

 

  Ace, with some help from Kotatsu in the mess hall, snuck a couple of desserts for Marco to have and hopefully enjoy, and while there was little he could control about his station in life, he could try and make it not so miserable for the other man—pirate or not, he was still human. The only thing Ace determined as he descended down below deck was that the two of them would not utter a single word between them, no matter what. The lights that swayed above his head attested to the rough waters coming up ahead, but Marine ships were known for their durability against such things. The rear mast could not be mended; however, and so they would be forced to dock at the nearest Island for quick repairs. Of course, time was of the essence, the longer it took them to get Marco to Impel Down, the more time Whitebeard and his crew had to mount a rescue.

 

  The idea that Whitebeard would allow for his 1st Division Commander to rot in one of the most notorious of prisons was absurd to Ace, but not to his superiors—”dogs eat dogs, if they’re hungry enough, son.” Marco described Whitebeard as a father figure, not just a Captain aboard a pirate ship. Ace knew next to nothing of what having a father entailed, but what father would allow for their child to be captured and sent off to one of the most notorious prisons known in existence without so much as lifting a finger to try and help them? Garp, himself, admitted that in Gol D. Rogers’ last few days alive he pleaded for life, but not his own. Rogers had implored Garp to not let the sins of the father be passed down to the son.

 

  Garp, a true military man through-and-through, upheld that promise, and until this day, Ace couldn’t fathom why, exactly, he’d done so. His grandfather didn’t use words nearly as much as he used fists, but he’d been the last person other than Ace, himself, to be by his mother’s bedside as she took her last breath—her body sapped of what little strength it had left. All so that she could give Ace a head start on a lifelong race for his right to exist against the very World Government both men now served under. Gramps said it would be best for him to try and hide in plain sight, but the anxiety and the fear that induced made Ace lackluster in performance on the best of days, and downright suicidal on the worst of them. Ace wished his mother would have saved herself, given up on him as a lost dream that died the same day his father did, but she hadn’t.

 

 She saw something in him that Ace could not see in himself.

 

  The last thing Ace’s mother ever gave to him besides bringing him forth into life was to bestow upon him his name. The will of D. was not something Ace understood, and maybe he never would, but both of his biological parents carried it with them to the grave. Garp carried it, and Luffy, too, for that matter. Ace would, too, until the day he died. For better or for worse, it would be the albatross he carried around his neck.

 

  Portgas D. Ace, the last gift she’d ever given to him.

 

  The first, and only real gift Garp ever imparted to him was her given name—Rouge.

 

  Ace used to imagine what she must have been like; how she spoke, the way in which she carried herself, if she liked to sing or dance. Ace knew that her hair spiraled down her shoulders in waves of strawberry blonde, that she loved to wear bright red lipstick to match the tropical flowers she wore behind one or both of her ears. Garp told him that her strength was unparalleled; a hardworking woman that could knock a man twice her size flat on his ass with one solid punch. Ace cherished those stories the most because, no matter how much he loathed and hated the man he knew to be his father, he could never hate her, hate Rogue. In his imagination, Ace used to pretend that she hadn’t died but had sailed somewhere far, far away, but not too far away that she couldn’t see or hear about him.  

 

  Sabo taught Ace how to read and write at his urgent request, but his dutiful and proud brother never got to live long enough to learn the reason as to why. Makino taught him manners so that he could express his utmost gratitude towards Shanks for saving Luffy’s reckless life, but he’d learned how to be literate so that he could write his mother all sorts of letters, day in and day out. A practice he did without fail everyday for years on end, and while Dandan never admitted to being the one “sending” them off to their special destination, Ace later found out that it was, in fact, she who’d done so for him without complaint on her part. Dandan, too, would always hold a special place in his heart—whether they both wanted her to be there or not. The woman had given him and his brothers a home when they most needed it, and Ace would always be grateful to her for that and the sacrifices she made for them—no matter how much Garp had threatened her and the rest of the Mountain bandits.

 

  Ace’s reminiscing shattered into broken shards of distorted glass the moment Marco came into clear focus, his seastone cuffs cast aside along with his lavender button down shirt. The prominent tattoo across his chest and torso absorbing most, if not all, of Ace’s attention, and while he tried not to stare too hard or too openly, he feared that he had failed equally on both accounts as those tranquil-like blue eyes settled upon him with their full weight. Marco approached the other side of the bars with a suddenness Ace did not expect, but the Warrant Officer felt no fear, nor would he ever back down. If anything, he merely found himself at a loss as to how he should react. The hypnotic quality of Marco’s eyes were irresistible to him, and Ace felt immense embarrassment at the thought—wondering why, out of all the people in the universe, he found himself drawn to a high ranking pirate he now found himself in charge of overseeing to _prison_ , of all places.

 

  It wasn’t romantic, nor was it right—by any means, and Ace knew it.

 

   "Your face—"

 

  Ace gave a soft laugh at that, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture he never quite learned to quell. “Repairing a ship comes with its own hazards, you know? I’m not particularly skilled at it either, so that doesn’t help,” he said, and it was obvious in the way Marco crossed his arms over his broad chest, depriving Ace of what he considered to be a splendid view in the process, that he didn’t believe him.

 

  “Don’t lie to me, Ace,” he said, and the way in which he commanded the other’s attention left the Marine near breathless. Honestly, Ace didn’t like taking orders from anyone about anything, but the way in which Marco spoke demanded the Warrant Officer’s utmost attention. “I’m not just a pirate, yoi, but a healer as well. I know what fists can and do to another person’s face.”

 

  Ace shrugged, feeling a little let down that the one goal he’d set for himself had been broken not even five seconds in. “Shit happens,” he said, at a loss for anything more succinct to say.

 

  “Because you stood up for me, yoi?”

 

  “Look,” Ace said, pulling the desserts he’d confiscated out of his pockets so that the pudding cups in his uniform top didn’t accidentally get smashed and out him for the thief that he happened to be. “It doesn’t matter, okay? I get into a lot of fights no matter what, and I can hold my own for the most part. I got sucker punched, but I’ve had worse over less. Now, I didn’t know what kind of pudding you like so I brought both vanilla and chocolate just in case. I don’t know if you even like pudding, but it’s what we had so it’s what I got…”

 

  “What flavor do you prefer?” Marco asked, throwing Ace off guard for a moment as his mist-gray eyes snapped up to meet the blonde’s gaze.

 

  “Huh?”

 

   "What flavor do _you_ prefer, yoi?”

 

  “Oh, um, I’ll eat anything, really, but if I had a favorite I guess it would be chocolate.”

 

  “Then I’ll take the vanilla,” he said, reaching a hand through one of the small openings.

 

  Ace felt his cheeks as they warmed up again, setting his freckles ablaze like stars. “I was gonna give you both,” he said, not meeting Marco’s weighted gaze.

 

  “You shouldn’t be going without over a prisoner like myself, nor should you be getting into fights over my well being, but you are, for some reason, and I can’t stop you from doing so....So, why don’t you humor the side of me that’s very curious about a person like yourself.”

 

  “You don’t need to be curious about me,” Ace said, muttering just so as he tried to calm the rapid beating of his fluttering heart.

 

  Marco smiled at that, the same sort-of half-smirk he’d given Ace earlier that morning. The type of confident, playful sort of thing that made Ace tingle all over in both envy as well as full-out want. “We’re long past that point now, yoi,” he said, taking the offered treat with one hand, but not before securing Ace by the wrist with the other, pulling him closer. Ace blinked once, slowly. He could feel Marco’s warm breath as it commingled with his own. “Just relax. I can’t utilize the full extent of my power under these circumstances, but I can ease the swelling, bruising and some of the pain to a small extent.”

 

  Ace wanted to refuse, to let Marco know that he shouldn’t waste such an extraordinary ability on someone such as himself, but his lips remained cinched together as blue flames so unlike his own emerged from the palm of the blonde’s hand. The thick, black lashes of his upper eyelids fluttered across Ace’s freckled cheeks as a soothing, if but slightly cool touch traversed across the left side of his face. The moment lasted no more than thirty seconds, but Ace had never experienced something as intimate as he did in that moment.

 

  “There,” Marco said as he retrieved his hand and Ace’s eyes opened with an almost sleepy quality to them. “Much better already, yoi.”

 

  “You didn’t have—”

 

  “Wanted to.”

 

  Ace remained quiet as he took a seat atop a pile of short, heavy crates Ace knew to contain ammunition for the number of cannons onboard the ship. He stared down at the chocolate pudding before him as though it would somehow reveal all the answers to every question he now possessed within the recesses of both his mind as well as his heart. “Thank you,” he said, at last, remembering his manners as he peered over at the blonde who held no qualms about staring back at him with open interest.

 

  Marco smiled, but there was something amiss about the color and concentration of his eyes this time around. “You’re very welcome,” he said, his words gentle...calm almost.

 

  “Oh, I gave Deuce a couple of books to bring down for you...did he, did he get them?” Ace inquired, trying to fill the awkward silence that had fallen over them. “Because sometimes he forgets, but if  he forgot, I can go get them...or, if you don’t like them, maybe I can trade them out for something you do like.”

 

  Marco began to laugh as he dropped his face into the palms of his open hands, and something about it felt off, startling Ace as his body tensed up. “You’re such a sweet boy, Ace,” he said, his words soft and low as they barely reached Ace’s ears over the gentle rocking of the ocean waves.

 

  The calm before the storm.

 

  “I’m...I just—”

 

  “Do you not realize that I’m a prisoner, Ace? I’m _your_ prisoner,” Marco said, his words curt now, almost harsh as though he were trying to impart some lesson upon the other.

 

  Ace felt a terrible mixture of anger, guilt and hurt beginning to well up inside him. “I’ve never wanted to imprison anyone,” he admitted, his eyes cast downward. “I don’t want you to be my prisoner…”

 

  “But I _am_ ,” Marco said, and his words might as well have been a punch in and of itself.

 

  Ace stood then, bowing as he readied himself to flee and never come back. He would tell his superiors and his Gramps the truth, that he wasn’t cut out for this. “Then...then I apologize, and I promise not to, not,” he started, then stopped, horrified to realize that tears were welling at the corner of his eyes in spite of his otherwise ironclad will. “I’ll send some, someone else in my stead.”

 

  “Ace!”

 

  Ace could hear Marco as he cried out for him to come back, but the wayward Marine couldn’t get away fast enough. The tears he’d held at bay were now falling freely down his lost face, his body collapsing in one of the damaged corridors furthest from the Captain’s quarters as he heaved for breath, willing the salt in the air to excise his lungs from his chest along with his heart. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to cast himself overboard, to let the sea claim him at long last. Ace didn’t want to be a Marine, not really. All Ace ever wanted in life was to be free, and he’d caught a glimpse of that in Marco, abusing the power dynamic between them in order to get close.

 

  He felt cold, lost and alone as he cradled himself, rocking back and forth in a manner he’d not done so since he were a small child.

  
  “I’m sorry, Luffy! I can’t...I just can’t!” he cried, over and over again, tearing at his hair as all the terrible things he felt he encompassed resurfaced tenfold. “I can’t! I _can’t_!”


	2. The Day they Intertwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has some hard truths to face, and not all of them are in regards to himself.

 

  For the first time in a long time, Marco found that his hands trembled, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t appear to quell them. The pirate found this whole thing as disturbing as he did gut wrenching, none of which made any sense to him. At first, he’d planned to have some fun at his captors expense until an opportunity to escape presented itself or a rescue was mounted—whatever came first, really. The Phoenix’s plans fell into complete and utter disarray upon the first five minutes after meeting that young Warrant Officer, Ace. Marco bit his lip, _hard_ , as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the young freckled face that haunted his memories at every turn.

 

  A slave would never trust their captors, their _tormentors_ , and Marines were well known to uphold or turn a blind eye to the institution of slavery, but Ace’s face happened to be transparent, and the outrage written across the furrowing of his brow and downward turn of his lips told Marco much more than he needed to know—it told him the truth. For whatever reason Ace had found himself a Marine, it didn’t appear voluntarily, and the way his face lit up when Marco talked about his brothers, about his family....he knew then that Ace wasn’t a Marine—not at heart, but Marco couldn’t trust in that, and he wouldn’t. He _wouldn’t_.

 

  “You okay, man? You’re really pale and sweating a lot...I can send a call up to Sick Bay,” Deuce said, and besides Ace himself, the masked man was the Marine who’d watched over him the most. Well, if you could call it that. He normally plopped down atop a stack of crates with a sigh and a newspaper to read, obviously bored out of his mind. “Uh, you in there?”

 

  “I’m fine,” he grit out, thumping his head back against the wall as he tried not to let the minimal space overwhelm him.

 

  “You sure? It’s not much, but I can open a window or something. I know it gets stuffy down here…”

 

  Marco didn’t answer, and the man sighed again as he moved to his feet, opening a window anyway. Before he could sit back down; however, another Marine came bounding down the steps, skipping two at a time. Marco had never seen him before, but by the way he huffed and puffed for breath, something had excited his nerves.

 

  “Deuce, where’s Ace?!” the man asked, taking off the cowboy hat he wore in order to wipe the sweat gathered across his damp forehead.

 

  The mention of Ace’s name piqued Marco’s interest right away as he gazed up at the two men, and by the way Deuce shifted his attention over to him before turning back around set Marco’s nerves on edge. What did he know that Marco didn’t? What did he know that, for whatever reason, he or Ace didn’t _want_ him to know?

 

  “Man, what're you asking me for?” Deuce asked, frowning at the other man as he placed a hand on either hip. He dressed quite sloppy for someone expected to uphold the epitome of justice. “I’ve been down here just about all morning.”

 

  “No one can find him and Aggie, Pinnacle and Banshee have been telling everyone that he’s been down here, but that’s obviously not true.”

 

  “Saber—”

 

  “I’m worried, Deuce! The last time I saw him was before the sun had risen. He was passed out in one of the damaged corridors,” the man—Saber—said, and Marco’s hands began to tremble a little harder at that revelation.

 

  Had he been hurt again?

 

  Hurt because of him?

 

  “You know he’s got _narcolepsy_!”

 

  “This was different,” Saber said, and Deuce sighed for the third time in less than an hour as he placed an arm across Saber’s shoulder, guiding him back towards the stairwell.

 

  “I know, but look…”

 

  Whatever happened to follow the rest of that sentence was lost to Marco as Deuce’s voice cut out the further away the two men walked, their backs turned to him. Marco felt an overwhelming sense of agitation stir within him as Saber took his leave without another word or look. Deuce knew more than he let on, that much happened to be clear.

 

  “Where’s Ace?” he asked, calm and collected despite the fact that Deuce didn’t spare him a single glance as he waltzed back over to where he’d been sitting prior.

 

 “Don’t know,” the blue-haired man said, crossing one leg over the other.

 

  “Yes, you do.”

 

  “Let’s say that I do, Mr. Phoenix Man,” he said, his dark eyes fixating themselves upon Marco’s person. “What’s it to you?”

 

  “I want to see him.”

 

  “Yeah, that’s not how this works,” the Marine said, rolling his shoulders as he cracked his neck to and fro, much more stressed than he'd appeared the previous day. “Ace is a good guy. He tries his best, but he can be stupidly innocent in a lot of ways that others might find surprising for someone who’s almost twenty. He’s, like, my best friend. No, scratch that, he’s totally my best friend, and I’m going to do my very best to keep that sweet idiot alive, got it?”

 

 “I want to talk to him.”

 

  Deuce laughed at that, the corners of his unusual mask wrinkling around the edges nearest his eyes. “Yeah? Well, he doesn’t want to _talk_ to you,” he said, picking the newspaper he had cast aside back up as he pointedly went back to ignoring Marco’s existence. “And he doesn’t want to _see_ you, either.”

 

  Marco hung his head as he tried to reign in his emotions, feeling this hopeless, this helpless and this angry had been a thing of the past for him. He tried to dig deep into the recesses of his memories for a key piece of information he knew that he possessed. If Phoenix’s never died, and elephants never forgot...he needed a goddamn elephant.

 

  And then it dawned on him.

 

  “Ace’s family name...it’s Portgas, isn’t it?”

 

  Deuce froze at that, his eyes peering up over the newspaper at the blonde with a hard stare that gave Marco his answer, but he didn’t know if he felt relieved by that or even more unsettled. The only Portgas Marco had ever met in his life had been a woman by the name of Rouge, Rogers’ one and only Whitebeard used to call her. If it were true, and Rogue was, in fact, Ace’s dead mother then that would make Rogers Ace’s father. The timelines didn’t match up perfectly, but Marco knew stranger things to be true.

 

  And if Ace’s father was Rogers, then the rumors about the Pirate King must have been true.

 

  “You don’t have to answer that…”

 

  “How the _hell_ do you know Ace?”

 

  “I _don’t_ know Ace...at least, not anymore than I do now, but I need to talk to him.”

 

  “You don’t get it!” Deuce exclaimed, casting the newspaper aside as he laced his fingers together over his lap, his shoulders tense. “I’m trying to get Ace out of here! I’ve been banking on an opportunity like this, but that sweet, sweet idiot wants to help some asshole like you!”

 

  “Help me? Help me how?”

 

  “Shut up! That’s not important because I can’t let him do it. I’ve got to get him out of here before he fucks up too badly, and his Gramps comes to collect his ass.”

 

  “Who’s his grandfather?”

 

  “Are you even listening to a goddamn word I’m saying, or…?”

 

  “I am. _Trust_ me, I am, and I just...please. Who is Ace’s grandfather? You’re not the first person to bring him up.”

 

  “Ace’s grandfather is a fucking Vice Admiral, man. Ace was adopted by Monkey D. Garp as a baby. He’s got a younger brother he’s always going on about by the name of Luffy, he’s Garp’s grandkid, too. Ace had a choice...he either joined the Marines or Garp was going to make Luffy join after his seventeenth birthday. It’s Ace’s baby bro, you know? The thing he most loves in this world…”

 

  “Ace never wanted to be a Marine…”

 

  “Fuck no! That’s why we get along so well. You see, you’ve got Marines who believe in being Marines and justice and all that bullshit, but then you’ve got guys like me who got in trouble with no other way out. Prison, or this. I chose this so I could still take care of my mom and my sister, but I don’t think I made the right choice at all...I’d choose prison over this bullshit any day of the week, and that’s why I’ve been working my ass off to try and bail us out of this, but even if we all can’t make it, I _swore_ I’d get Ace out of here. We’re all here for one reason or another, but not Ace. He’s completely innocent, man.”

 

  Marco’s head began to spin the more he tried to process everything. Why would Garp, of all people, adopt Rogers’ kid? What did their full relationship entail? Did Ace know? He must have known something of his past if he knew that Garp wasn’t his biological grandfather.

 

  “Look, I understand that you don’t know me and you don’t trust me, but I need to talk to Ace. I might be able to convince him to escape. One day, now or later, Ace is going to have to flee from here, and the sooner he does so, the better,” he said, trying to gain Deuce’s confidence, even if just a little bit, without divulging everything he’d just learned.

 

  “You do know him, don’t you?”

 

  Marco shook his head, his frustration mounting as he focused on his breathing, reasoning that Deuce just so happened to be his best bet. “No, but I think...I think I knew someone who was close to him,” he said.

 

  “I can’t make any promises,” Deuce said, at long last. “I can tell him, but it’s Ace’s choice in the end whether or not he wants to see you, let alone speak with you.”

 

  Marco gave a curt nod of understanding. “Thank you,” he said.

 

  Deuce stayed for about another hour to an hour and a half as far as Marco could tell. The same man from before took over, and while he was by no means rude, he was most definitely awkward, and not in a cute sort of manner like Ace. Marco would have chastised himself for that line of thought any other time if not for his current predicament. As far as he was concerned, being attracted to Ace was the least of his problems. Marco’s sexuality was no secret to anyone who knew to look hard enough, and any shame or fear that once brought him died the same day Marco claimed his freedom.

 

  Marco’s past lessened its hold over him with the passage of time, and one of the first things he’d done after joining Whitebeard’s crew was to tattoo the Old Man’s mark over the brand that had been seared into his flesh at a tender age. Marco didn’t know how old he was, not really, but he couldn’t have been any older than five or six when he was labeled as someone else’s property. Whitebeard liberated the Island he’d been on for most, if not all, of his life when Marco was fourteen or fifteen years old. The Old Man had seen something in him, something other than a mere slave, and Marco vowed to prove that sentiment to be the absolute truth. His conviction and his loyalty could never be swayed, and in that sense, Marco had truly found his freedom.

 

  Marco couldn’t help but to notice that Ace desired nothing more than to be free, that he longed for it, but while the chains that ensnared him weren’t of a physical making, they were still there, and Marco could still see them. The blonde sighed as he sat and waited, hoping that Ace’s generosity would extend to giving Marco another chance because he couldn’t overlook or ignore Ace’s plight; he couldn’t overlook his imprisonment. If Deuce’s words proved truthful, Ace planned to help Marco to escape in some form or fashion, and as taxing as the thought happened to be, Marco couldn’t help but to feel a bit good about it. Ace could join them, he could be free, he could live his life as he willed it. Monkey D. Garp was renowned for both his strength and his vigor, his reputation preceded him everywhere he went, but Marco didn’t have a whole lot of firsthand information when it came to the man, admittedly, but the few skirmishes between them had garnered some insight.  

 

  Monkey D. Garp knew him to be a former slave, and more than that, he knew that Marco had murdered his former Master, and while the Marine would never excuse Marco for being a pirate, he felt no pity towards Marco’s former captor, and made it a point to say as much. A lot of time had passed between now and then, but if his memory served him correctly, Garp would have already been in possession of Ace as his legal guardian. The push for Ace to join the Marines more than likely came from a place of concern for the child. Sure, Garp could be gruff and unrelenting, but he did not appear to be the type to ever go back on a promise, even if said promise happened to be between a Vice Admiral and the King of Pirates. By all accounts, Ace should not have been alive—he should not exist, but Monkey D. Garp had ensured his survival, and he was more than likely still trying to make sure Ace lived by placing him in a position that would draw the least amount of attention and scrutiny.

 

  Marco understood that reasoning, to an extent, but Ace wasn’t truly living—not really, not like this. Ace was merely existing, and that wasn’t much of a life, if any. Marco knew that feeling all too well—simply holding on, fear pervading all of your senses at once—wondering, always wondering, when the floor would give way beneath you.

 

  “Ace! There you are!” Saber exclaimed, his face lighting up as the Warrant Officer made a cautious approach.

 

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave a soft chuckle, not yet meeting Marco’s gaze even though he must have felt it by the sheer intensity alone. “I’m good. You can go on up, I know you don’t like cramped spaces and Banshee said she needed your help.”

 

  “Banshee needing anyone’s help is _never_ a good thing,” Saber said, and the two laughed as they traded off without a hitch.

 

  Marco wasted no time as he moved to stand, moving as close to Ace as his small prison would allow. After a moment or two of hesitation, Ace’s eyes finally met his, and Marco didn’t understand his desire to smile every time he looked upon the dark haired man. For someone who supposedly slept a lot, Ace didn’t look it—the dark circles under his eyes distressed Marco’s heart.

 

  “Deuce said—”

 

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the need to get that done and out of the way before he continued moving forward.

 

  Ace looked at him with a raised brow, taken aback by Marco’s sudden apology. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, glancing away as he shrugged his shoulders.

 

  Marco fought not to allow his eyes to linger across Ace’s chest, noting that Ace, much like himself, didn’t prefer to button up his top, leaving his chest and torso on full display. “Yes, I do...because what I said to you wasn’t fair and, honestly, it came from a place of extreme guilt,” he said, taking a slow, deep breath as Ace met him with another critical look that told him without actually having to _tell_ him that he didn’t comprehend what Marco meant.

 

  “You were right, though?” Ace said, and the despair that lingered in his voice wounded Marco’s heart, but he needed to get through all of this now because their window of opportunity was fading with each passing second.

 

  “ _Ace_ ,” he said, drawing the Warrant Officer’s full attention to him as he held onto the bars in front of him with a crushing grip, never mind the fact it weakened him physically to do so. “Yesterday, I accused you of trying to take advantage of me, but I was the one trying to take advantage of the situation. I saw an opportunity, but I couldn’t bring myself to take it.”

 

  Marco watched as the realization dawned across Ace’s features, and the look of revelation and the absolute sense of betrayal left in its wake would be something the blonde would never forget as long as he lived. “When you, when you grabbed my wrist? When you...touched my face?” he whispered, but before he could take a step back, Marco grabbed onto the hem of his uniform top, bringing Ace closer even as the other man fought him tooth and nail, red flames colliding with blue as their eyes locked onto each other and held.

 

  “Please,” he said. “Listen. We don’t have much time, and I cannot shout what I’m about to say to you.”

 

  “ _Let_ _go_ ,” Ace ordered, rearing back even as Marco refused to back down.

 

  “I knew your mother,” he whispered, his eyes never wavering from Ace’s face even as the other man stilled, his eyes wild and unblinking. “And I knew your _father_ , and I understand why your grandfather has done what he’s done—”

 

  “ _No_ , you don’t!” Ace shouted, his face twisted up in a gut wrenching sort of shock and panic.

 

  “You must realize the amount of danger you’re in every day that you’re aboard this ship, Ace,” he said, his voice low, calm almost as he tried to sooth the other’s overwhelming sense of emotions.

 

  “Stop!”

 

  “ _Ace_!” he exclaimed, drawing the other back towards him, trying to keep a lid on things so that no one would interfere or overhear such a delicate conversation. “You’ve got to get off this ship as soon as possible. You have to get off of this ship at the next Island, yoi, and you have to get far, _far_ away from here.”  

 

  “I _can’t_!”

 

  “You _can_!” Marco argued, caressing the same side of Ace’s face he had the day prior. God, he was beautiful. “Do you know what being a pirate means, yoi?”

 

  Ace shook his head no.

 

  “Freedom,” he said, unwilling to relent as he held onto Ace for dear life, afraid to let go. “Absolute, uncompromising freedom.”  

 

  “Marco, I _can’t_!” Ace continued, shaking his head in disbelief as tears filled his eyes. “I _really_ can’t! My brother…”

 

  “This was never about your brother, yoi! Your grandfather made a promise to protect you, but now that you’re an adult, he can’t keep you hidden anymore. He knows that there’s nothing in this world that you wouldn’t do for your younger brother, and he used it in a bid to put you in the one place he thought you’d never be exposed in. Ace, it doesn’t matter if you live your entire life as an “honorable” Marine. If the World Government were to find out who you are, whose _child_ you are, they wouldn’t protect you, yoi! They’d be the first ones to hand you over, and you know that! Deep down, you know that.”

 

  Ace’s bottom lip began to tremble as tears slid past his guard, staining freckled cheeks. “Marco, I’m really scared that you found out so easily,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he tried to regain control over the tremor in his voice. “I’m really scared about everyone knowing...about what’ll happen to me if they do…”

 

  “Come with me, yoi. Come with me, and join Pops. I promise we’ll take care of you...protect you,” he said, and he meant every word of it. “To the very end.”

 

  “My...my dad was Whitebeard’s biggest foe! There’s no way!” he said, but Marco still refused to loosen his grip. He couldn’t, not until Ace understood that this was a  simple matter of life or death.

 

  “Friendly, Ace. They were always friendly. The two got along quite well, yoi. How do you think I got to know your mother?”

 

  Ace’s gaze met his then, shining with such a deep seated desire for connection that it nearly stole Marco’s breath away—completely and utterly touch starved. “You really knew her?” he asked, hopeful in a way that made Marco’s chest tighten considerably.

 

  “Yes, you look a lot like her, freckles and all. Her hair was different, but that’s because...well—”

 

  “I got it from my dad…”

 

  “The color, but not the texture. Your father’s hair was as straight as a rod, but your mother had long, wavy hair.”

 

  Ace smiled at that. A true, genuine smile that made a flood of relief flow right through him. Ace’s hand shook even as it took his own, but Marco’s hands no longer trembled—still enough for them both.

 

  “I just want to help you get away so that you don’t get locked up,” Ace said, his head tilted slightly as he studied Marco’s face like it would be the last time he would ever get the chance to do so, and that wouldn’t do, the blonde determined. “They’ll find out anyway. It’s only a matter of time. I’ve accepted that.”

 

  “I’m either going to prison, or you’re coming with me.”

 

  “That’s not fair,” he said, brows furrowed as his lips curled. He looked ferocious enough, but still cute.

 

  “You giving up so easily on your life isn’t fair, yoi. I’ve lived a long life, longer free than not. Nothing can compare to that,” he said, and he realized then that this was more than likely the most he’d ever talked about himself, past included, with anyone save Pops. “I can feel it still sometimes, even though it’s been so long. The brand that sits in the center of my chest...I can still feel it searing me....smell my flesh burning, and I feel fear. Real fear, yoi. The kind that tortures you day in and day out, at every corner—inescapable.”

 

  Ace hung his head low, but Marco merely guided the palm of the other man’s hand to what his tattoo now covered. He expected Ace to flinch at the sensation, but all he did was spread his fingers wide until the whole of his palm covered the whole of the brand, shielding him in some way, trying to make Marco feel secure. “It’s nice to wake up at times like those and remember it’s all in the past. It could be the same for you, yoi,” he added, enjoying the warm weight of Ace’s hand.

 

  “You don’t even know me, Marco. You don’t know what kind of person I am, you _can’t—_ ”

 

  “I _can_ , and I am.”

 

  “Why?”

 

  “Because I have the freedom to do so, yoi, and so do you.”

 

  “I found a Marine uniform that should fit you,” Ace said, and Marco nearly faltered at that because it was the first he heard of it. Maybe that was the plan Deuce had been alluding to prior, he reasoned. “We should reach port by sundown. We’re gonna have to haul ass, and if you know where your crew might be heading, we’re southeast of Impel Down right now.”

 

  “How long have you been planning on breaking me out of here?” Marco asked, and he couldn’t help but to smirk as the kid’s face lit up a bright shade of red.

 

  “Pretty much well since we first met.”

 

  Marco leaned forward as far as he could, Ace’s hand held firm against the center of his chest. He’d never experienced what he felt in that moment before, but he knew it to be something profound. “Well, I can fly so that should help,” he said, trying to remain lighthearted despite his heart beginning to pound so rapidly that it nearly deafened him to all else.

 

  “I had Deuce store it in here. When I know for sure that we’re preparing to dock, I’ll set everything into motion. The only issue we might be running into is a massive hurricane scheduled to make landfall around the same time we do.”

 

  “And until then, yoi?”

 

  Ace bit his lip, again, and the action was a distraction that, honestly, Marco couldn’t afford at the moment, but his brain begged to differ. “We bide our time,” he said.

 

  “Well then, let’s use this time as an opportunity to get to know one another better now that we’ll be escaping together.”

 

  “You pretty much well know my deepest, darkest secret so there’s really nothing more of me to hide,” Ace mused, muttering just so as an overwhelming sense of shame appeared to wash over him.

 

  “You have no control over who brought you into this world, yoi.”

 

  Ace snorted, but didn’t advert his gaze. “Tell me about it,” he said.

 

  “You’re a Logia user right?” he asked, even though he knew by Ace’s display prior with the two Marines who’d overstepped their bounds that he had to be.

 

  “Yeah. I ate the Mera Mera no Mi,” Ace said, and Marco watched as a look of fear struck the younger man’s face as he snatched his hand back from the blonde’s bare chest. “Sorry! I mean, that...I didn’t think.”

 

  “Ace, no need to fret,” Marco said, attempting to sooth the other man with something that could only be described as deepening affection for such a caring, passionate person who only appeared to make the blonde crave him all the more. “You weren’t the one to brand me, yoi.”

 

  “Yeah, but—”

 

  “And even if you wanted to hurt me in that manner, you couldn’t,” he said, a demure smile gracing his lips as Ace visibly settled at his words. “You might have guessed by my moniker that I’m a Zoan…”

 

  “Not just any Zoan,” Ace said, looking up into Marco’s blue eyes with a profound sense of awe pouring forth in his eagerness and his honesty. “A Mythical one, right? Since you’re a Phoenix. I caught...caught a glimpse of what you looked like the other day. That’s why, that’s why I was so shocked that you’d been captured.”

 

  Marco tried not to feel too flattered at Ace’s assessment of him, but somewhere deep down he certainly preened at the other’s appraisal though he did not outwardly show it, schooling his features as he so often did—a survival mechanism that he’d learned at a young age. “That’s certainly a nice compliment coming from someone who possesses such devastating strength,” he said instead, delighting in the blush it produced.

 

  “It...It’d be better if I had more control over it.”

 

  “And you will,” Marco assured, his eyes lingering on Ace’s mouth more so than with his eyes. “With time.”

 

  Ace grinned at that like he’d won a prize he’d so desperately longed for. “Yeah? How...How long have you had your Devil Fruit ability?” he asked, and Marco found that he couldn’t hate the kid’s ravenous enthusiasm for him.

 

  “Honestly? Since I was about eleven or so,” he said, making eye contact with him as he prepared to dredge up another painful, uncomfortable truth from his past to dim the light in his eyes. “There’s a game some master’s like to play with their slaves, consider it a form of Russian roulette, but instead of a single bullet you have a Devil Fruit to eat.”

 

  Ace looked horrified as Marco’s words begun to sink in. “They forced you...to eat it,” he said, the realization dawning on him.

 

  The boy truly was too sweet for his own good, and Marco found himself desiring to keep Ace all for himself, as selfish as the thought was.

 

  “Yes, to see what it would do,” Marco admitted. “It amused them greatly at the time, but they hadn’t realized their mistake until a few years later.”

 

  “Marco—”

 

  Marco didn’t know what he expected when he leaned forward to hear Ace’s voice more clearly, but a kiss most certainly wasn’t it. An abrupt, harsh pressing of lips against lips—no finesse to it at all, really, but that didn’t quell Marco’s wanting more. Ace reared back, stunned by his own actions more so than Marco as he could only stare at the other.

 

  “Sorry!”

 

  Marco shrugged a shoulder, keeping his face well composed considering that his body physically _ached_ to reach out and touch the other man, to plant kiss after kiss along sun baked skin, tasting the heat and sweat of Ace’s body upon his tongue. “Don’t be,” he said instead because the cell he found himself in contained what little reserve he had left.  

 

  “I really shouldn’t have done it like that! Really, I’m—”

  
  “ _Ace_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deuce is a great best friend. Be like Deuce.


	3. A New Path to Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was ever a time to run, this would be it.

Ace never thought that he’d be thankful for such a brutal act of mother nature before in his life, but he couldn’t help but to feel momentarily blessed as the ship lurched forward, and the Logia user found himself flung back. The back of his head knocked hard against the series of wooden crates behind him, his thoughts muddled somewhat as he sat up, clutching the back of his neck as he looked around. It dawned on him then that they must be close to their destination. The moment of truth came when Deuce came hurtling down the stairs, skipping two at a time before landing in front of the other two men, drenched in water from head-to-toe. Ace tried to act calm, cool and collected despite having just kissed someone for the first time in his life before falling and hitting his head less than a minute after.

 

  “It’s go time!” Deuce shouted, readjusting his face mask as he tossed Ace a pair of keys that would unlock Marco’s cell. “Get this guy dressed, and then both of you get the hell outta here. The weather’s bad, there’s no way anyone’s going to be able to move. Find a cargo ship, an inn, an abandoned fucking warehouse, I don’t care! Find it, and bunker down. As soon as this shit clears up, take off. You’ve got your log pose, and you’ve got wings. Get my boy outta here, alright?! And Ace, don’t you dare look back.”

 

  The dark haired man found himself momentarily speechless at his friend’s words, faintly aware of the fact that Marco agreed to Deuce’s demands without question. “Deuce, you can’t!” he shouted, finally finding his voice once again.

 

  “Ace, now’s not the time!” his friend exclaimed as Ace stumbled up to his feet, reaching for the blue-haired man as he did so, not caring that he should be shifting his focus to the task at hand. “You’ve got one shot at this, and you need to take it! We’ll be fine, I promise. We’ll find you again, I swear.”

 

  Deuce didn’t give Ace the chance to argue as he took off again, fast as a flash of lightning tearing through the night sky. Ace struggled not to cry as he retrieved the uniform he’d stolen from another Marine that most resembled Marco’s stature. The next moment after that, he had Marco’s cell open, handing the blonde the bundle of clothing as he fought not to feel overwhelmed by the other’s sacrifice. Instead of taking the offered clothing right away, Marco placed a hand upon either side of Ace’s face, looking deeply into his eyes as their mouths met for the second, but not the last, time. Ace wanted to capture that feeling, and keep it forever as Marco pulled back just so—the hooded lids of his eyes drawing the other in, promising more.

 

  “Your friend is giving you an amazing gift, yoi. Stay in the moment,” he said, grabbing a hold of Ace’s shoulders as he shook him gently. “Stay focused.”

 

  Ace wiped his face, ridding himself of his tears as Marco changed in record time. “Well, do I pass, yoi?” the blonde inquired, and when Ace peered up at him he nearly fumbled with the hat clutched in his hands, wrinkling it just so.

 

  Marco looked stunning in his own right, especially shirtless, but a uniform added something to this mystique that clung to him already. “You...Yeah, you do,” he said, at a loss for words as he placed the white hat with the Marine logo atop Marco’s head, smiling to himself at just how handsome he looked. “Your hair’s a dead give away.”

 

  A hard wave hit the side of the ship, but Ace didn’t falter as Marco’s body steadied his own. He noticed the difference in height much more now that the two were in such close proximity, the blonde’s chest pressed against his own as Marco’s hands settled over Ace’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh there hard enough as to bruise, and he found himself unsettled to find that he wanted that—he wanted those bruises. Ace didn’t know what would happen to them in that moment, whether they could pull this off or not, but he wanted to try it; if this was what freedom felt like, _tasted_ like...he would do _anything_ in his power to have it.

 

  The next forty-five minutes of Ace’s life moved in a slow-building whirlwind that escalated with every moment, every beat of his heart. The wind whipped around them with a force behind it unlike anything he’d witnessed prior to in all of his travels, the torrential downpour that rained down upon their heads weakened them as they were on the move. Deuce’s parting gift waited for them at the stern of the ship, just as instructed to him prior. A raft he’d crafted in secret with scraps found across their missions abroad, keen on being able to utilize Ace’s Devil Fruit ability to sail across the ocean without succumbing to its effects. Ace wanted nothing more than to turn around then, to run and fetch his best friend, but he remembered Marco’s words then—urging him on.

 

  Freedom.

 

  Ace wanted to be the freest man who ever lived, and the first step to accomplishing that dream resided in a raft Deuce affectionately named Striker. Marco’s azure flames lit up alongside two of the most mesmerizing wings he’d ever witnessed up close and personal as the blonde encircled a secure arm around the mid of Ace’s waist, his features pulled into taught lines wrought with nothing but purest of concentration and effort. Ace held on for dear life, deathly afraid of falling, but also somewhat exhilarated as the two touched down safely. No one aboard the massive Marine ship would be foolish enough to try and descend upon the mountainous Island during such an onslaught, no one but them. The giant cypress trees that adorned the forest they tore through after shielding Ace’s raft as best as they could near a dilapidated peer shielded in between two large boulders moaned and groaned as the traitorous wind uprooted the weakest among them.

 

  Marco held onto him as they ran as fast and as hard as they could without being spotted by chance, not knowing where to go, but knowing well enough that they needed to be _somewhere_ far enough out of reach. A few buildings made out of solid concrete and painted bright colors popped up here and there, but they were caved in and still far too close to be safe when the storm settled and the alarm raised. The water began to rise, flooding as they neared an overflowing, fast rushing river by mistake, and Ace could feel his heart in his throat as he trudged forward, water well above his ankles now.

 

  “There! There!” he shouted, yanking on the hem of Marco’s shirt as the blonde could not hear him clearly, spotting something perched over top of a looming cliff, nestled in a thick canopy of trees.

 

  The two placed their bets on a coral pink building that looked to be mostly intact and well hidden considering. The mud shifted under their boots the higher up they climbed, his calves burning as they reached what appeared to be a single story home, but the windows were shattered, and rain poured inside along with the broken shards of glass. The two men climbed in through one of the larger windows, and Ace hissed as a broken shard of glass tore through his cargo shorts, cutting the inside of his right thigh as he followed Marco in.He ignored the pain, cursing his lack of agility under his breath as he stood up straight, taking in their surroundings. The first thing he noticed was an inherent lack of furniture or anything personal one might keep in their home, allowing them to surmise that whoever once dwell there did so no more.

 

   “Take that table and place it up against the far right window, yoi,” Marco said, moving across the house with the same critical eye and keen sense of concentration he’d carried all this way. “The wind’s coming in strongest from that side. I’ll look for any supplies, but I’m doubtful.”

 

  “Right,” Ace said, acting at once. He could see why people flocked to Marco, following his every word even though the blonde never needed to raise his voice to be heard.

 

  The two of them boarded the quaint house up the best they could given their current circumstances. Marco found the remnants of a futon with its bedding dry in the far left corner of the minuscule home. Ace found a couple of sheets and quilts in a small linen closet beside a photo of an elderly couple holding hands with sweet, content looking smiles etched into their wrinkled faces. The woman appeared bed bound, what looked to be her husband feeding her spoonfuls of porridge by her bedside. He didn’t know why he did it, but he took the photograph and placed it into one of his back pockets before turning his attention back toward Marco who sat upon the sprawled out futon, rid of all his clothing save a pair of dark colored boxer-briefs, and even in the resounding darkness that threatened to consume them both, his profile looked striking.

 

  “I can dry those for you.”

 

  “Come here first,” Marco instructed, his intense blue eyes falling back into an almost tranquil-like state as he crooked a single finger in his direction, beckoning Ace forward.

 

  Ace did so, stopping just short in front of Marco who remained transfixed on him. A large hand reached up along one of Ace’s calves, long fingers trailing ever upwards as the younger of the two shivered at the unexpected contact. “You’re injured,” he mused, breaking the odd, almost crushing silence that had settled over them.

 

  “I don’t think it’s too bad,” he said, feeling somewhat embarrassed by it as Marco never looked away—never even blinked, really.

 

  “Take them off, Ace,” Marco commanded, and Ace bit his bottom lip as he reached for the band of his shorts, removing the short second belt he wore unfastened propped up on his hip, tossing it to the side.

 

  Ace then reached for the orange, eyelet-studded belt he wore as well, his fingers uncertain and his hands unsteady as he undid the button next, zipper soon following suit. Despite his inherent bashfulness and lack of confidence, Ace never broke eye contact with Marco as he did as told, left only in a pair of black boxers. A faint blue spark emerged from the tips of Marco’s fingers as they brushed across the injured portion of Ace’s inner thigh, calming the wound but heating the man in the process. The weather continued to roar with all its might, shaking the very foundation beneath them, but all Ace could see or feel was the man who sat before him. The intensity of the flames died out, but Marco’s hand remained where it may, daring the other to act.

 

  To do something.

 

   _Anything_.

 

  Ace’s body began to heat up, an inkling of fire simmering just beneath the surface of his skin as he leaned forward, attempting his second kiss ever as Marco pulled him down on top of him. The world could very well be coming to an end outside, but neither of them appeared to care as the kiss devolved from something quite innocent to something explicit as the tip of Marco’s tongue traced along the seal of Ace’s lips, seeking permission while also demanding more access all at the same time. Ace gasped, or, at least, he tried to as Marco’s adventurous tongue invaded his mouth, caressing his own as he took and plundered, just as any pirate would. The thought alone thrilled him as the blonde’s hands trailed down along his sensitive sides, down to his ass, grabbing two handfuls as Ace let out a low moan, an almost soft whine fleeing his throat as his hips rocked down and forward of their own accord, creating the sweetest of frictions as his hard-on grinded against Marco’s own.

 

  “Ace—”

 

  Ace didn’t know what Marco intended to say, and he didn’t care in that moment as he chased the pleasure that mounted inside him. Marco gripped his hips hard enough to bruise as he readjusted their positions so that Ace’s knees were placed on either side of the blonde’s outer thighs, causing him to break away from the most intense kiss of his life with a low whimper. Ace could _feel_ him, feel how hard he’d become _because_ of him, and never had he considered something like this for himself even remotely possible.

 

  “Ace, I don’t want to push you,” Marco said, his voice audibly strained as he tried, and failed, to keep the other in place.

 

  “I want to be pushed,” he said, not meaning to be crass, but what he said held true all the same. He wanted this, and he had the freedom now to act upon it as he saw fit. “I want to feel...I _like_ this.”

 

  And he did. He _loved_ it. Wanted all of it, but maybe, just maybe, Marco didn’t.

 

  “Do you...Do you want me to stop?” he asked, trying to gather his bearings as his limbs tensed up where they’d been near gelatin beforehand.

 

  “I’m warning you that I won’t be able to hold back if we continue, yoi,” he said, trademark smirk in place as he flipped Ace over and onto his back with a surprised huff on Ace’s part in a sudden display of strength, and then, and _only_ then, could Ace see the ravenous sort of hunger that lingered in the other's gaze.

 

  Ace felt his heart stop before it fluttered back to life again at a rapid pace, pounding against his rib cage as Marco kissed him within an inch of his life, his hands traversing the plains of Ace’s body seemingly all at once as his mouth moved lower, his teeth nipping at Ace’s jaw, neck and throat with no signs of stopping anytime soon. Ace cried out as Marco sunk his teeth into the side of his hip, his fingers toying at the band of the dark-haired man’s boxers. His eyes screwed shut as the fingers of his right hand threaded through a tuft of soft, blonde hair, yanking hard as Marco exposed him in a manner that he’d never been before.

 

  In a manner he never thought himself to be deserving of.

 

  “You doing good, yoi?”

 

  “ _Yeah_.”

 

  “ _Feeling_ good?”

 

  The other man kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, listening to the hurricane that continued to ravage the world outside, faintly aware of how dire their situation was. The wind howled like a wild animal snarling, flooding in through every crack and crevice possible as the humidity clambered higher, ever higher, his hair clinging to each side of his temples as Marco placed a chaste kiss just below his belly button. The exhilaration met and collided with the inherent shame Ace felt whenever something made him feel content or happy; torturing him thoroughly.  

 

  “ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, his voice trembling as much, if not more than the rest of him did in that moment. “Almost too good.”

 

  “Don't be afraid of your own pleasure, yoi,” Marco said, and whenever he spoke, Ace could do little more than listen, trusting in him—trusting in this. “Don’t run from it. Embrace it instead.”

 

  “I—”

 

  “You deserve to feel good, Ace,” Marco said, caressing Ace’s thighs as he pressed kiss after kiss across the sensitive flesh there, skimming his teeth over the same areas as the other shook and moaned.

 

  “I want to—”

 

  Ace could feel that pre-come beaded heavily at the tip of his cock already, dribbling down the head and he hadn't even been _touched_ there yet. Marco did his best to relax him, easing him into accepting more of what he wanted at a pace the younger of the two could manage. “Marco, I really like you,” he said, biting back a loud groan as Marco sucked a deep bruise into the flesh where he’d been injured just a short time prior.

 

  Marco peered up at him then, a genuine smile gracing his lips as their eyes met and held, lingering just as they did when their worlds first collided. “I really like you, too, yoi,” he murmured, his tongue trailing across his bottom lip before dragging up along the underside of Ace’s cock.

 

  Ace could feel himself scream as it tore its way up his throat, but all sound remained muted for quite some time as Marco’s mouth descended upon him, engulfing him. The feel of his mouth unlike anything he’d ever felt before, wet and hot in ways his brain could not comprehend let alone describe. His stomach tensed, breath stuttered as Marco showed him absolutely no mercy as he worked him up, using his hands in tandem with his mouth. If anyone were to take him out, he imagined this would be the most effective means of doing so because he couldn’t do _anything_ , his body surrendering to Marco’s complete control. Ace gasped for breath, his fingers winding through Marco’s hair with a vice-like grip as he tried to ground himself in some fashion or another�—drowning.

 

  “ _Marco_ , ah! What—”

 

  His thoughts flourished only for the briefest of seconds, quickly fading to static as, he felt, truly felt what effect Marco’s actions were raining down upon him like the hurricane outside. Marco hummed, deep in thought, the vibrations of which sending tremor after tremor throughout Ace’s entire body, and it felt good, and it felt right. Lost and adrift, he never wanted the other man to stop.

 

  After catching his breath, Ace willed his eyes open, keen to observe, to be a part of this—to witness and feel it on every intimate level he’d ever denied himself prior. He accepted all that Marco offered him, and then some. He loosened his hold on Marco’s hair somewhat, the storm clouds often portrayed in the gray of his eyes clashed with the most mysterious of open waters; Marco watched him in a way Ace had never been before, delving beneath the surface with a piercing gaze that left him even more bare than his own inherent nudity.

 

  “You okay, yoi?” Afraid that he wouldn’t be able to convey his answer properly with his own words, Ace settled for a simple nod of his head. A soft moan curtailed on the edge of a harsh sigh as Marco exposed his entire length to air made cool by his saliva. “It’s hard at first, for people like us. When you’ve been denied such things...When bad is good, and good is bad. Do you understand?”

 

  Marco’s words caused Ace’s chest to clench uncomfortably, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth as the blonde continued to touch him, alternating between deep presses and the faintest of caresses. “The hardest thing sometimes is to accept your own self worth,” he added.

 

  “I don’t know _what_ I’m worth just yet,” Ace said, surprised as the blonde crawled up his body then, nuzzling his nose into the crook of Ace’s neck as he placed a chaste kiss along his nearest pulse point, threading his fingers through Ace’s hair as gently as he could. The younger of the two shivered at the tenderness of it all, realizing that Marco must have been imparting some of his past experiences into Ace’s present, helping to guide him as he’d been guided—or in the way he wish he had been. Ace found himself too afraid to ask; too afraid that he might hurt the blonde in a profoundly deep sort of way.

 

  “You’re going to be able to explore the world in a way you never could before, yoi,” he said, his words murmured against Ace’s lips as he cradled the left side of his face just as he’d done before. “You’re going to meet so many different people with different views from different places...You’re gonna be able to live your life how you see fit—no one else.”

 

  “I want to live my life wherever you are,” Ace said, and he meant it.

 

  Marco frowned then, a slight down turning of his lips as he shut his eyes for a moment, depriving Ace of his only source of light. “Do not chain yourself to me, yoi,” he said, and the other man could hear the warning laced in between Marco’s words.

 

  “I’m not,” Ace promised, brow furrowed as his cheeks rushed with warmth as a near outrage broke loose inside him at the insinuation. “I don’t know _what_ attracted me to you, Marco, when we first met, but I knew it before I even _saw_ you.”

 

  “Infatuation—”

 

  “ _Don’t_ ,” Ace said, jaw clenched as he pressed a hard, almost unforgiving kiss to the blonde’s full mouth. “Don’t do that to me, and don’t do that to yourself. Don’t dismiss me.”

 

  “Ace, it’s...just,” Marco started, then stopped, having a difficult time looking at him. “You’re a kid. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Why would you possibly want to settle for an old man like me?”

 

  When Marco next opened his eyes, Ace could see why he’d closed them in the first place—the conflict that played out like the bloodiest of battlefields reflecting back at him. Ace determined then that he wouldn’t give the other man a chance to ever feel conflicted about anything ever again. “You can try and cast me aside, but I promise you that I’ll always remain right there by you, no matter what,” he said, and the pain Marco must feel deep down inside ate at him.

 

  “I would never cast you aside,” Marco said, kissing Ace again as he stroked his hair lovingly. “You’re already too precious to me, yoi.”

 

  “I want to _see_ a lot of things,” Ace said, accepting another of Marco’s wonderful kisses in between with a laugh and a smile. “And I want to _do_ a lot of things, but I want to experience them with you there. I meant it when I said that I liked you, Marco. Did you not mean it back?”

 

  “Ace—”

 

  “It’s a fair question, so just answer it.”

 

  “Of course I did, yoi.”

 

  “So then keep your word,” Ace said, heated for multiple reasons at that point as Marco loomed over top of him still, the longing in his gaze much more prominent now that the younger of the two had stated his thoughts, and stated them clearly.

 

  “Of course.”

 

  Marco’s kisses soon became more demanding in nature, but so, too, did Ace’s. He no longer felt afraid, let alone reserved. If any residual conflict lingered in the back of Marco’s mind, it didn’t extend to his touch, and so Ace took that to be a good sign. The blonde spit into the palm of his hand, taking Ace’s cock into a firm grip as the younger of the two let loose an unhinged moan, hooking one of his legs up and over Marco’s hip, bringing the two of them even closer together. His fingers dug into Marco’s shoulder blades as Marco took them both in hand, upping the ante as Ace let loose a string of curses under his breath much to Marco’s amusement.

 

  “Such a filthy mouth you have there, yoi,” he mused, groaning as Ace’s hips jerked upwards, grinding their cocks together as he tried to maintain some semblance of rhythm.

 

  Ace brought Marco down for a needy kiss, another wave of heat flooding his system as his toes curled. “Feels...good,” he said, moaning as Marco tightened his grip, flicking his wrist this way and that, thumb swiping over the head of Ace’s cock. “Oh, _fuck_. Marco!”

 

  “Your face betrays your every emotion, yoi,” Marco said, pleased with the notion as he focused his intent on making Ace come undone.

 

  Ace knew he wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer, not like this.

 

  “Yours doesn’t, but I can still tell what you’re thinking anyway,” he said, enjoying the brief look of skepticism that traversed across Marco’s features for a brief moment.

 

  “Oh, yeah? Tell me what I’m thinking right now, Ace,” he ordered, and Ace hated how much his body responded to that sort of treatment from him. Anyone else could tell Ace what to do, and he would do the complete opposite out of sheer spite, but when Marco did it, Ace’s entire body felt compelled to do as told and it was as hot as it was frustrating.

 

  “You like what we’re doing, but you’d rather be able to come inside me,” Ace said, grinning like a mad man as Marco slumped forward, forehead pressing against his own as a shudder visibly tore through him.

 

  “You trying to make me come like that?”

 

  Ace laughed, thrusting up into Marco’s grip as the blonde groaned, placing a gentle kiss to Ace’s forehead before trailing heated ones across his face and neck before biting down with the blunt of his teeth. “Isn’t that the point?” he asked, smug as Marco didn’t deny it, too focused on marking his flesh.

 

  “It’s _not_ a competition, yoi,” he said with a raspy chuckle, his warm breath ghosting along the shell of Ace’s ear, causing him to shiver. “We’ll both get there.”

 

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

 

  Marco pulled away some to peer down at him with a crooked little grin plastered across his face as he raised a lone brow. “You really want to go that route right now?” he inquired, looking down at him with a predatory look.

 

  It was hot. Marco was hot. Ace knew he was fucked.

 

  “I’m not gonna last,” he admitted, near whining as he met Marco’s lustful gaze head-on. He figured he could at least hope to tie with the other man before coming undone in his entirety. “Which sucks because I can’t wait to see what you feel like inside me.”

 

  And, with that, Ace secured his first victory, much to Marco’s chagrin.


	4. A New Path to Make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco reminisces before it's time to flee again. It's do or die, and he has no plans on dying now.

   Ace slept, and Marco allowed him for the time being. The kid nearly blacked out after he came, and the memory would serve Marco well moving forward, but he needed the rest—to feel at peace until it was time for them to run again. The photograph he found with Ace’s clothing made his heart ache for him, the loneliness he felt radiating out from within with such raw intensity that it threatened to open old wounds of his own. The blonde understood the pain that laid itself at Ace’s feet, and he understood it all too well. Of course, there were some key differences, and Ace would more than likely scoff at Marco comparing his situation to that of actual slavery, but there was so much more to it than that.

 

  Marco would give him a home, and he would expand Ace’s family to now include his own, but Marco never acted like this, he never took any unknown, unnecessary risk. If anything, it was how he’d survived for so long—perfecting his ability to read others, his tormentors included, and how he outmaneuvered them. In that way, he was able to keep both himself, as well as others, alive. In his youth, Marco used to pray for death; he welcomed it, even. If Marco were dead, he wouldn’t live long enough to witness others die.

 

  For much of his young life, he tried not to become too attached to those around him as those who happened to be closest in proximity were other slaves, and thus, vulnerable to succumbing to the multiple horrors that presented as their everyday reality. Marco never spoke to anyone of his own volition; he didn’t even know what his true voice sounded like. He did want to be heard, more than anything. Whitebeard demanded to know how long Marco had been a slave, and when Marco’s answer happened to be all of his life, Whitebeard guided him to a room the young man had only ever known as the “playroom.” There, the Headmaster and his kin sat front and center, on their hands and knees in front of those they once tortured for their own amusement.

 

  Whitebeard asked Marco to please speak for them, his fellow slaves, to advocate for their freedom, and so Marco did. He outlined each and every detail that encompassed their collective experiences, critical down to informal. In the process of doing so, Marco’s well maintained control began to slip, and the mask he wore began to crack the longer his eyes lingered on the man who’d instilled nothing but the utmost misery to all those around him.

 

  “And what do you believe should happen to a man like this?” Whitebeard had inquired, gazing down at Marco as he twirled one end of his trademark mustache.

 

  Marco did not hesitate as his voice echoed around the room, ringing clearly in the ears of all those who heard him, “Death.”

 

  The anger, the grief...everything Marco had kept well hidden below the surface seeped through then. The emotions he felt were too many, too conflicting for him to clamp down on. He didn’t remember killing that man, but he knew that he had.

 

  He pledged his allegiance to Whitebeard there and then, but the Old Man wanted him to be certain of both himself and his path, but Marco wanted nothing else. Whitebeard didn’t dismiss him, but embraced him instead as a father would his son. Marco’s life changed in ways he could never have imagined, but a part of him could never move on, not truly. Marco loved Pops, and he loved his brothers, but he kept everyone at arm's length. He could lead, and he could follow, but he could never imagine bearing what was left of his soul to another.

 

  Marco didn’t trust easily in himself nor others. He kept himself composed and pleasant enough that others rarely noticed, but notice, Pops did. Whitebeard praised his children where praise was due, and Marco toiled hard for each and every acknowledgement thrown his way, but Whitebeard noticed this and set him aside one night. The Old Man admitted that his health remained in disarray, and would only recline further with time. Marco wept openly at his words, feeling his entire world shattering once again as uncertainty blossomed within his heart.

 

  “I don’t want to worry you, my son. I only want to spend my remaining years left being able to watch you grow into the man you’re meant to become,” he said, slinging a massive arm across Marco’s slumped shoulders. “Don’t cut yourself short trying to please me. Be yourself, and I will always be happy to behold you.”  

 

  It was the Old Man’s way of telling Marco that he loved him as was, and always would—no matter what. That he only wished for Marco’s happiness, enough so that he felt compelled to pull him off to the side to share all of his own history and well-guarded secrets, but there remained a problem. Marco didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what would make him feel content in this world, and didn’t know where to even begin to start.

 

  And then he met Ace.

 

  The strength he carried enticed Marco easily enough, but it was Ace’s personality that had uprooted him. Marco felt so completely out of his element, and an inkling of fear surfaced as he tried to keep one step ahead of it all. The prospect of physical intimacy did not churn his stomach nearly as much as that of the emotional kind, but he understood that Ace deserved so much more than some half-assed attempt on his part. Ace’s personality could be blistering, his emotions downright explosive, but he was also incredibly accepting of others, and unable or unwilling to back down from anything, even something as uncertain as romance. Marco would do right by him.

 

  He had to.

 

  The idea of spending all of eternity simply observing the other’s slumbering features brought a serene smile to his face, and a yearning to his heart. He couldn’t deny Ace even if he wanted to, and no part of him honestly wanted to. Marco had no way of foretelling the future, try as he might, and he would have to learn to accept that fact if he and Ace were to stand a real chance. If it only lasted one day, it would be the happiest, most content day of his life. If Ace would have him, Marco would happily stay.

 

  The kid promised to keep him honest, at least.

 

  ‘Thatch would love that,’ he thought with a roll of his eyes and a humorless laugh.

 

  Honestly, though, Thatch and Izo might be the only two people to lend him advice as well as an ear. The two were as opposite as opposite could be, and yet, they’d been romantically linked—exclusively—for over five years now. Of course, neither pretended that such a feat was easy to accomplish, but they did promise it to be worth the effort.

 

  “Marco…”

 

  “ _Hmm_?”

 

  Ace stared up at him with such a soft, sleepy expression that Marco forgot how to form real thoughts, let alone words.

 

  “You need to sleep, too,” he said, and Marco found it hard to deny him when he looked as content as he did in that moment.

 

  “One of us has to stay awake, yoi,” he argued, humming as the other wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck, bringing him down for an almost lazy, certainly slow series of kisses.

 

  “Trust me, when that alarm goes off...we’re both gonna know,” Ace said, licking his lips as he continued to cling to him, their chests pressing firm against one another.

 

  Ace’s body was the ultimate temptation. His flesh was decorated by one tattoo thus far, but if he were to join Whitebeard’s crew, he would soon bear another. Marco’s eyes swept over the contours of his body, trying to imagine where that could possibly be.

 

  “If we’re captured, I’ll be blaming you,” he said, pressing a quick peck to Ace’s cheek as he settled back down, bringing the other closer to him.

 

  Ace rolled over onto his stomach, his head coming to rest along his shoulder. Marco played with his hair as Ace pressed kiss after kiss everywhere his mouth could reach. Marco felt as relaxed as he did aroused, but tried to limit his focus on conserving as much energy as possible.

 

  The next time Marco opened his eyes, it was in an absolute panic. The alarm that blared across the entire Island was just as Ace promised it to be. The two of them shot up, ready and waiting since the night before to take off at a moments notice. It was now or never, do or die, and Marco refused to die now—at least, not so easily, not like before. They tore down the side of the mountain in the opposite direction, any and all Marine insignia left behind in a place that used to be someone’s home.

 

  “Move ahead of me, Ace! If the Moby’s near, I’ll spot it first so keep moving!” he shouted, careful not to slide down and off of a cliff, the ground slipping out beneath them from time-to-time.

 

  And even though the day languished, no sun appeared, only the light and dark hues of various grays left to paint the mid-morning sky. Flashes of lightning cut through the heavy daze and stifling air. Ace moved as a jungle cat would through its domain, weaving through thick brush and clustered trees with relative ease. If they made it to their final destination in one piece, he would have to ask him where he grew up with his younger brother in tow, kept well hidden from the world that wished only to deny him the chance to be something of his own making. In exchange, he would divulge where and when Marco had come upon Ace’s mother and father for the first time in his travels.

 

  Flares that burned blood red were launched into the morose sky, casting nets along the coast, hoping to see in which direction the pair might have escaped to. Marco didn’t know why, maybe it happened to be the color of them, but he decided that if the two didn’t make it, if they weren’t able to make a clean getaway, then he would take the blame for it, tell them that he had threatened Ace’s very life if he must. No matter what, he would do his best to protect the other.

 

  In the span of ten to fifteen minutes, nine red flares burst into the sky followed by one of the most welcomed sights Marco had ever seen—a lone white flare that darted further than all the rest, lighting up with Whitebeard’s jolly roger in deep contrast to all else around it. It would be the only warning that the Marines stationed on this Island would get. Ace looked back at him briefly, his eyes wide as his dark hair shimmered under such intense, bright light. He nearly tripped as a result, but Marco caught him just in time, Ace’s hand holding onto his own as they continued their descent, panting for every breath now, but going too fast to stop. The beach on the opposite coast came into focus, and Marco could see the Moby Dick and its entire fleet as it encroached upon the otherwise remote town.

 

  The two of them were almost in the clear when a series of gunshots rang out from somewhere to their left, and it was then, and only then that Marco realized that this was no ordinary Island with a low population, but a military base of sorts in and of itself. If the dilapidated houses were anything to go by, Marco didn’t doubt that those who used to live here and called it home were made to leave by force. If the World Government, for whatever reason, considered this Island to be of an advantage to them they would do anything, anything at all, to obtain it.

 

  “Marco!”

 

  “Stay in front of me, Ace!” he ordered, but the other faltered, if but slightly.

 

  Another series of shots sounded as those in the 1st, 3rd and 4th Divisions fired back, gunfire meeting gunfire as the cannons were aimed for the base behind them.  Marco heard the shot that struck him in his left side, just underneath his ribs, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins did not allow him to feel it at first. Ace stumbled, and both men crashed face first into the cold, wet sand beneath them. Marco had refused to activate his logia-like abilities, using his body as a shield for the man beneath him. His blood stained Ace’s otherwise pristine skin, and Marco wondered, briefly, how long it had been since he’d last bled like this.

 

  “Marco, wha—Why’d you do that?!” Ace exclaimed, his hands clutching at Marco’s shoulders as his features contorted into an uneven mixture of shock, anger and panic.

 

  “I’ve had worse. Much, much worse,” he said, attempting to get them up and onto their feet again as the ground began to tremble underneath them.

 

  “Marco!” The blonde looked to his right where Thatch came hurtling towards him, the first to reach them. “You got shot?!”

 

  “Help me get Ace to the ship!”

 

  “Okay! Wait. Who the hell’s Ace?!” Thatch hollered, keeping Marco up and on his feet.

 

  “He’s right...right,” Marco started, then stopped, looking around. “Ace?!”

 

  Thatch and Marco turned as a wall of solid flames lit up the entire coastline, painting everything in various shades of red. Marco realized then that he’d only witnessed a miniscule display of the other’s power. A small smirk hinged on the corner of his lips as an immense sense of pride swelled up inside his chest.

 

  “What the hell’s that?!” Thatch questioned, terrified of the immense heat rolling off of the Logia user in waves before Marco’s engulfed them in a protective wall of cool blues.

 

  “That’s Ace.”

 

  The scuffle came to a quick close when Whitebeard’s feet made landfall, and an eerie silence settled over them as the massive man regarded Ace for the first time, but the kid acknowledged him only momentarily before locating Marco’s presence once more. Marco couldn’t help but to laugh and fidget as Ace rushed over to his side, studying his wound with such a in depth expression. All those who looked upon them did so with startled expressions, all except for Pops who looked on with a twist of his mustache and a barely noticeable upturning of his lips.

 

  “You okay?” he asked, wiping as much sand off of the blonde’s person as he could muster.

 

  “I’m perfectly fine now.”

 

  “Good,” he said before punching Marco, _hard_ , in the shoulder.

 

  Whitebeard got a good laugh out of that, his voice booming with mirth. “Marco, come. We have much to discuss, my son,” he said, and the blonde grimaced for the first time as reality came crashing down all around him.

 

  “Thatch, get him something to eat,” he said, giving the brunette such a dour look. “Ace, don’t hesitate to get your fill.”

 

  “Who is he?” Whitebeard asked, his eyes lingering upon Marco’s serious expression as the last of his nurses took her leave, shutting the door behind her.

 

  “He’s a young Warrant Officer who helped me to escape,” he answered, weighing his response carefully.

 

  “You called him Ace.”

 

  “Yes, that’s his name.”

 

  “His family name?”

 

  Marco sighed, rubbing his temples on either side. Direct and to the point, that old timer. “Portgas,” he said, clearing his throat. “Portgas D. Ace.”

 

  “That woman,” Whitebeard said, his voice grave in tone as he thought out loud. “Rogue. She’s still amongst the living?”

 

  “No,” Marco said, recalling the deep sadness that shrouded Ace when he spoke of her. “She died giving birth to him on a non-disclosed Island two years after Rogers’ execution.”

 

  “Two years…,” Whitebeard muttered, taking a large drought of booze that would have made his nurses irate. “That woman held on for two years. If she died during childbirth, who reared him? Who did Rogers entrust his child to?”

 

  “Monkey D. Garp.”

 

  “Garp!” Whitebeard exclaimed, clearly just as shocked as Marco had been at such a revelation. “That man...was truly a mad one.”

 

  Marco couldn’t argue with that. “Yes, he was. Garp kept Rogers’ secret, and he keeps it now,” he said, watching as the gears turned and grinded in Pops’ head.

 

  “Did he choose to become a Marine of his own volition?”

 

  “No, his hand was forced.”

 

  “Leave it to Garp to make such a decision.”

 

  “I suppose he figured that Ace would have an easier time hiding in plain sight than tearing across the ocean making a name for himself by his own right.”

 

  “Can you honestly say that his plan is not the best option for someone in Ace’s position?”

 

  “I cannot.”

 

  “Then what compelled you to bring him here?”

 

  “There were others who already planned on helping Ace to escape, start over,” he said, but he knew that wasn’t the answer that Whitebeard was looking for.

 

  “Marco.”

 

  “He might not bear the markings of a slave, but he shares the makings of one,” he said with a low sigh, meeting Whitebeard’s gaze head-on, just as he did all those years ago. “I see a lot of my former tendencies in him, and I couldn’t ignore it, nor him.”

 

  “His Devil Fruit ability is nothing to balk at.”

 

  “No, he is immensely strong and capable when he wills it,” Marco said, unable to contain the gentle grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “He never backs down.”

 

  Whitebeard scoffed, loudly, at that. “One trait he most certainly inherited from his father, no doubt,” he said. “You seem quite fond of him. Fond enough to have taken a bullet for him.”

 

  “I am,” Marco said, not bothering to try and diminish it, let alone hide it.

 

  “You know I trust your judgement, Marco, and I trust it still. Let the boy prove his own merit free from the expectations, weight and grief he’s been forced to inherit,” he said, and Marco could feel a wave of immense relief wash over him. “Let him make a name for himself that’ll reach his parents.”

 

  “Thanks, Pops.”

 

  Marco found Ace in the galley with Thatch and a curious Izo who bombarded the poor kid with a multitude of questions, most of which were of a salacious nature that either confused the newest member of their crew or outright embarrassed him. Thatch appeared stunned at the sheer amount of food Ace could tear through in such a short span of time, and both Izo and Thatch jumped when Ace fell asleep, face planting into his plate with a loud bang. Marco laughed as the two of them freaked out, believing Ace to have up and died all of the sudden.

 

  “What happened?!”

 

  “Thatch, your food! You fed him too much!”

 

  “He just kept eating! I didn’t know what else to do!”

 

  “Don’t fret, he’s not dead,” Marco said, startling the two of them further. “He’s just asleep. It happens.”

 

  “Oh, good,” Izo breathed with a sigh of relief. “I was fully ready to place all the blame squarely on Thatch’s strong, broad shoulders.”

 

  “Hey! If anything would have killed him it was you and the two hundred something questions you kept asking him as he ate!” Thatch bellowed, pausing in his tirade as he shot Izo down with a questioning raise of his brow, an almost lewd grin perverting his features. “You think my shoulders are strong and broad?”

 

  Izo rolled his eyes. “That’s besides the point,” he said, clicking his tongue.

 

  “You both need to stop,” Marco said, not giving the two men the chance to argue with him as Ace came to, wiping his face with a sheepish grin.

 

  “Oh. Hey, Marco!” he greeted, and the blonde could feel himself melting at that happy-go-lucky smile he wore.

 

  “Hey, Ace,” he greeted in return, remembering himself then as he placed a hand upon Ace’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you away from these vultures.”

 

  “ _Rude_ ,” Izo shot back, but by the coy smirk he wore, Marco knew he’d be hearing more from him soon in regards to Ace.

 

  “We should be getting ready for the lunch rush anyways,” Thatch argued as Marco and Ace took their time to make their escape.

 

  “They’re funny,” Ace said with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous gesture the blonde was getting better and better acquainted with. “So, how did it go with your old man?”

 

  “Really well, actually,” Marco said, enjoying the calm that their close proximity brought to him.

 

  Ace beamed at the news, but it didn’t last long as he asked,” Does he know? Does he know about, um, who I am?”

 

  Marco slung an arm over Ace’s shoulder, pulling him in closer, guiding them back towards his quarters. “I think he knew the second he laid eyes on you,” he said, kissing the top of Ace’s head, nuzzling his hair.

 

  “And he’s okay with it? With me being here?”

 

  “Like I’ve told you before, Ace. You can’t help who brought you into this world,” he said, pausing just outside his door as he reached for the handle. “That information will remain between the three of us, no one else. You get to decide what you’ll be known for from here on out, yoi. Got it?”

 

  Ace didn’t hesitate as he crowded Marco back against the door to his cabin, kissing him with so much force behind it that it left them both breathless. “Got it,” he said just before they disappeared from any prying eyes there might have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whitebeard's such a great dad :')


	5. A Path All our Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny the difference that two years can make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I'm glad to finally be able to share it.

 

  “Welcome back, 2nd Division!” Thatch cheered as food and drinks were passed around in a massive celebration welcoming them back from their first mission since reforming under Ace’s command.

 

 “This looks great! Doesn’t it, Ace?!” Deuce asked, ruffling Ace’s hair as he set his signature orange hat aside.

 

  “Yeah, yeah it does,” he answered, grinning as he reeled from the success they had in securing three military ports and all valuables and resources held within, but he hadn’t seen Marco in over a month, and a part of him felt deprived in more ways than one.

 

  “If you’re looking for the Phoenix, I heard he’s still in his quarters,” Deuce said before Ace, himself, could ask. He couldn’t hide anything from that guy.

 

  Ace’s cheeks flushed, and Deuce could only laugh at him. “Thanks,” he said, shoving the blue-haired man as he ducked out of the overcrowded galley, pulling a crumpled up piece of paper that also served as his most recent mission report.

 

  Marco found Ace’s handwriting to be questionable on the best of days, and he didn’t want to know what his expression would be when he saw that it was smeared from saltwater in some places and burnt in others. Honestly, he didn’t care—he just wanted to see Marco. Ace knocked on his door as he glanced around, amused to see that just about everyone was off partying.

 

  “Welcome back, 2nd Division Commander,” Marco greeted, shirtless and well rested it appeared.

 

  It was a look Ace couldn’t hope to resist.

 

  “Can I shower here?”

 

  “Aren’t you starving, yoi? I thought you’d eat at least ten helpings as soon as you got back.”

 

  Ace laughed as he shoved the other man back, kicking the door shut behind him. Marco hooked a finger through one of Ace’s belt loops, pulling him closer as Ace threw his arms around the other man’s neck, smiling as their lips met in a hungry kiss Ace could only dream about for weeks prior to their reunion. Marco wrapped an arm around the mid of Ace’s waist, his fingers tracing over the younger man’s back where Whitebeard’s mark now resided.

 

  “I really do need a shower, though,” he said, and Marco chuckled as the two broke away.

 

  It was easy enough to get carried away without the pair being separated for weeks at a time.

 

  “Go. I’ll read over your report while you get cleaned up.”

 

  “Or, you could come with?” Ace offered, hopeful that his expression conveyed the right amount of innocence mixed with just a hint of lewdness that Marco found near impossible to resist.

 

  “If I were to follow you in, we would never leave, and then I would _never_ hear the end about us using up all of the hot water...again.”

 

  Damn.

 

  “You’re not wrong, but you should really take that risk.”

 

  Marco placed a finger under Ace’s chin, tilting his head up as he took his bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging on it. Ace could only whine, eyes slipping loosely shut as Marco kissed him again, slow but with an intensity behind it that promised more to come. Ace was left panting for breath by the time they parted.

 

  “Go, yoi. I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”

 

  Ace gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he undid the first of two belts, heading straight for the other’s bathroom before thinking better of it. “Uh, try not to judge my paper _too_ harshly,” he said, disappearing behind the door before Marco could respond.

 

  The scalding water felt amazing against his skin, taking the time to rid of all the dirt and grime he’d accumulated from his time away. The mission had been a success all around, and nothing felt better than leading a team with some of his fellow ex-Marines, Deuce included. The past two years saw Ace beginning to make a name for himself, and while he loved and respected Garp, he would never regret his decision in becoming a pirate. Marco once said that Ace had the makings of a Revolutionary, but Ace never thought too much about it—he knew what they did, and he respected their convictions while facing the many injustices of the world at large, but that wasn’t what Ace was looking for. He wanted a family, and he’d found it.

 

  Sabo would have made a wonderful Revolutionary, Ace mused, remembering how affected his brother had been in the face of inequality. Sabo was intelligent enough with such an ironclad resolve that he would have been the perfect leader for that sort of cause. It killed Ace whenever he thought about how short his brother’s life had been, how much time he’d been cheated out of, but he promised to cherish everyday he spent alive, dedicating his happiness to Sabo’s memory.

 

  “There you are,” Marco said, and Ace bit his lip as the other peered up at him from his work desk, his reading glasses on as he shuffled around some paperwork.

 

  Ace loved when Marco wore his glasses, it did things to him he didn’t quite understand. “Okay, Marco. I know I normally try to draw this out in a playful kind of way, but I can’t right now,” he admitted, moving over to Marco’s bed as he discarded the towel slung low across his hips. “So, get over here, okay?”

 

  “Such an impatient boy you are, Ace,” Marco said, but by the deep pitch of his voice and the almost predatory look in his piercing blue eyes, Ace knew he felt much the same. “What am I going to do with you, yoi?”

 

  “Whatever you want.”

 

  Ace could feel his breath hitch in his throat as Marco stood up, walking around his desk to where his bed waited for him. Marco climbed over top of him, his hands placed on either side of Ace’s head as he dipped down for a gentle, soothing kiss. Ace gave a harsh moan as the blonde grinded his lower half down against his naked body.

 

  “I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already fully hard,” Marco said, his voice low and taunting as his mouth teased further south, licking and biting at the sensitive flesh of his neck and chest, marking his clavicles with sharp, little nips.

 

  “Just thinking about you normally does the trick,” Ace breathed, his own hands eager to remove the sash around Marco’s waist. “ _Fuck_ , Marco! You make it near impossible to concentrate like this.”

 

  “Did you warm up for me in the shower, yoi?”

 

  Ace cried out as Marco bit his earlobe, his body jolting as the blonde’s weight kept him pinned. “Ye-Yeah,” he said, trying to focus on undoing Marco’s pants next.

 

  “You want me to fuck you _that_ badly, yoi?”

 

  “All I’ve been thinking about since I left,” he said, pushing Marco’s pants down and over his hips.

 

  Marco kicked them the rest of the way off, casting them aside. “I missed you, too,” he said, his words murmured against Ace’s lips as he kissed him, over and over again until they were both senseless.

 

  “It was fun, but I wanted you there,” Ace said, staring into Marco’s eyes with the same sense of longing he always felt when it came to the other man.

 

  “It was very, _very_ quiet here without you and the others around causing constant chaos,” Marco said, brushing Ace’s hair back and away from his face, intent on seeing all of him—memorizing his every feature.

 

  “You didn’t enjoy your peace and quiet? Ace asked with a quirk of a lone brow.

 

  Marco kissed him harder than he’d ever had before, pouring his every thought and feeling into kissing him, and Ace could do nothing more than to try and return it tenfold. No matter how many times they did this, it never felt quite the same as anything before it. Ace loved the minute differences, loved that Marco could flip his entire world inside out.

 

  “I didn’t enjoy it one bit, yoi.”

 

  “Marco, it’s been way too long,” he said, his pitch near whining as he wrapped his legs around the blonde’s waist. “I’m not gonna last long, so please.”

 

  “Oh? So you’re begging already, yoi? And to think you’re normally such a brat,” Marco teased, licking a strip clean up Ace’s throat.

 

  “ _Please_ , Marco,” he pleaded, licking his lips as they felt suddenly way too dry in that moment, parched for another series of heated, barely contained kisses.

 

  “What would you like for me to do for you?” Marco asked, pressing kiss after kiss along Ace’s chest, sliding the tip of his tongue across one of his nipples, delighting in the loud moan the action wrenched forth.  

 

  “Marco!” he exclaimed, gripping the back of Marco’s head as his muscles seized and his body tensed. “Marco, ah! _Wait_.”

 

  Marco loved to exploit all of Ace’s weaknesses, and nothing proved more sensitive than his chest. The blonde bit and sucked at the small nub, delighting at how it hardened under his ministrations in an instant. Ace cried out, his hips bucking as Marco kept him in place, taking his time as he tweaked the other with callused fingers.

 

  “Oh, god. Marco,” Ace groaned, desperate and needy and on the verge of going insane. “ _Please_.”

 

  “Please, what?” Marco questioned, his warm breath sending shiver after shiver through every layer of Ace’s skin.

 

  “Fuck me,” he pleaded, bringing Marco up for a frenzied kiss, trying to distract the other from prolonging his blissful torture. “Please. I’ll be good the whole night, promise.”

 

  Marco chuckled at that, but it proved effective as he sat up to retrieve the lubricant they kept stashed in his quarters, among other places on such a large ship. After a couple of unexpected incidents, they had learned to predict the unpredictable. Marco coated two of his fingers before resettling in between Ace’s thighs, parting his legs further for better access.

 

  “Keep your legs spread wide open for me like a good boy should, okay?”

 

  Ace nodded his head frantically, his throat constricting almost painfully. Marco accepted his response, circling a single digit around the other’s entrance. Ace moaned, loud and unabashed, encouraging the blonde to get a move on while remaining absolutely still. Marco took mercy upon him, or he was too far gone himself, Ace didn’t know and he wouldn’t ask as the blonde finally breached his body, sinking his middle finger up to his second knuckle with relative ease. Ace wasn’t lying when he said  that he’d warmed up beforehand just thinking about this.

 

  “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he cried out, tossing his head back against one of Marco’s pillows. “ _Yes_ , Marco. Yes, please.”  

 

  “The idea of you touching yourself in the shower is a nice image, yoi,” Marco cooed, adding a second finger to the first, curling them up towards Ace’s prostate, rubbing against the spot with an unrelenting sort of pressure that made Ace’s eyes snap shut.

 

  Ace whimpered as a third finger joined the fray, and he could only cry out in vain as Marco showed no signs of slowing down or backing off. He didn’t want to come yet, not like this, but if that’s what Marco planned on doing, he wouldn’t be able to stop it. Unfortunately enough for him, it wouldn’t have been the first time, nor the last.

 

  “Marco, please! Fuck me,” he screamed, unable and unwilling to control the volume of his voice as Marco wrapped his other hand around the base of his cock, squeezing. “I want you inside me, Marco. Please.”

 

  “You really are good at begging when you want to be, Ace,” Marco said, his gaze meeting his own with such a dark intensity not often displayed in them. The grit and gravel laid out in his tone stole Ace’s breath away and any coherent thought he might have had left with it.

 

  Marco removed his fingers, slicking up his cock with rough movements as he flipped Ace over onto his stomach. Ace clutched at the sheets beneath him, gasping as the other man filled him with one hard, steady press of his hips. He bit down on the pillow in front of him, choking out a muffled cry as Marco pulled about halfway out, slamming right back into him with his entire strength behind it. Marco only got like this when pushed over the edge, but that normally only ever happened when Ace made it happen on purpose by disobeying him continuously or trying to make him jealous, both of which were incredibly hard feats to accomplish, but Ace never knew when to quit. This; however, was unexpected.

 

  “Marco!” he yelped, Marco’s hands holding onto his hips with a crushing grip, making sure to leave behind a trail of bruises for days to come.

 

  “Am I being too rough with you, yoi?” he asked, his warm breath tickling Ace’s skin as he sunk his teeth into the nape of Ace’s neck.

 

  “N-No,” Ace said, trying to gather himself as Marco threaded his fingers through his dark hair, yanking Ace’s head back as he snapped his hips forward. “Like it. Want, _want_ it. Want more.”

 

  Marco huffed a sharp laugh at that, biting Ace’s shoulder. “You’re insatiable,” he said, grinding his cock deeper into Ace’s ass, filling him all the way up.

 

  Ace’s back arched at the comment and vulgar treatment, depriving pleasure from the feeling of Marco pounding into him as he scrambled to try and hold onto something—anything. “Oh, fuck. Oh, god. I’m not...not gonna last. Please, please, please,” he said, his words nonsensical as he uttered the first thoughts to surface from the recesses of his mind.

 

  “I never get tired of seeing Pops’ mark on you, yoi,” Marco rasped, his tongue tracing the large outline that traversed Ace’s back, taking his neglected cock in hand as he fisted his cock. “You’re _mine_.”

 

  “ _Yours_ ,” Ace moaned, loving how possessive Marco could be in moments like these.

 

  Marco didn’t relent, and Ace didn’t last much longer, coming undone with Marco’s name on his lips. Considerate of his exhausted lover, Marco found a quaint sort-of pleasure in washing the other’s weary vessel, planting whisper-like kisses as he worked. Ace stretched out as Marco joined him back on the bed, kissing Ace in a way that made his heart ache for more.

 

  “You okay, yoi?” he asked, stroking Ace’s hair as he did so.

 

  Ace smiled at Marco’s sincerity in wanting to know. “Yeah,” he said. “You really missed me, huh?”

 

  Marco chuckled at that, but didn’t try to deny it as he took Ace’s hand into his own, bringing it up to his lips as he placed a tender kiss to the center of Ace’s palm. “Love you,” he murmured, his breath tickling Ace’s skin.

 

  “Mmm, love you, too,” Ace said, tired and a little bit sore, but overall content.

 

  “Before I forget, I’ve got something to show you,” Marco said, rummaging through his nightstand.

 

  “It’s not another expensive gift like that new dagger you bought me, right? Because I still feel bad about that.”

 

  “First of all, you needn’t worry about what I choose to spend on you, and second, this is absolutely priceless, yoi,” Marco said, handing Ace a folded up piece of paper.

 

  Ace noticed that it was a warrant poster, and a new one by the feel of it. At first, he thought his bounty might have gone up, but it turned out to be something far better than that. It was Luffy’s warrant poster, his first. Ace’s heart soared at the revelation, and he couldn't contain his joy as he pounced on top of Marco, kissing him three times in a row as Marco laughed beneath him. Ace straddled Marco’s waist, enjoying the feel of his naked body against his own.

 

  “This is so great, Marco!” he exclaimed, staring into Marco’s curious blue eyes, enjoying the thoughtful expression he wore as he regarded Ace with nothing but the utmost affection. “Gramps is gonna have a _fucking_ stroke, holy shit.”

 

  “He’ll get over it, eventually,” Marco said, tracing circles across one of Ace’s thighs, easing the slight tension he felt at thinking about his grandfather’s inherent outrage at such news. “Are you going to reach out to him yet, yoi?”

 

  “No, not yet. Luffy’s just starting out on his own...I’ll give him some time to wrangle up a crew for himself,” Ace said, leaning forward as he kissed Marco again. “Besides, I can’t have my baby bro trying to show me up just yet.”

 

  “Oh? How very competitive of you, yoi,” Marco said, and Ace kissed him twice, trying to silence him with no success. “I see that’s been a lifelong condition of yours.”

 

  “Speaking of which,” he said, interrupting the other as they kissed again, longer this time. Hungrier. “You got me last time, but I’m ready now.”

 

  “You think you can make me come first?”

 

  “I don’t _think_ , Marco. I _know_.”  

 

  “You’re lucky that I love you, yoi,” Marco said, smirking up at him.

 

  “ _Mhm_ ,” Ace hummed, rocking his hips back and forth with a slow, steady rhythm that increased the longer Marco endured such a teasing measure. “You’re just lucky I plan on taking it easy on you tonight.”

 

  “And _you’re_ just lucky that I plan on doing the exact opposite of that well into tomorrow,” Marco said, dragging Ace down for yet another kiss, but Ace could never get enough. “Welcome home, yoi.”

 

  If someone were to tell him that this would be his life, Ace would have laughed in their face. Ace never considered freedom to be a valid option for someone like him, but now that he had had a taste, he would never settle for anything less. And best of all, in securing that freedom, he had also secured Marco and his affections. The future remained uncertain, and his past never strayed too far away from his mind, but no matter what, Ace would never come to regret any of the choices he had made in his life thus far. If Sabo were able to look down upon him from heaven, Ace only prayed that he was making his brother proud instead of heartbroken.

 

  His mother and father, too, for that matter.

 

  He prayed that one day his name would reach them all.

  
  
  


   

 

 

 

      

  

 

                                                  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Ace :'(


End file.
